Necropolis
by Tiyku
Summary: An original story I created and developed. It's about a girl who has everything she could ever need, but lacks the one thing that makes her happy, freedom. However, she meets a stranger, and together they go off on the adventure of a lifetime.


_Necropolis  
><em>_ Part 1, Chapter1_

_Authors note) This is an original story created by myself. (All characters, locations, ect belong to me) It is the chapter form of a graphic novel I am writing. I thought I should post it to get some feed back.  
><em>

The soft silvery voice of a morning dove flowed into the dawn lit room. The wind caressed the soft white drapes along with the sweet scent of lavender and morning dew, causing them to dance and wave. A young woman with ebony black hair huddled beneath her warm sheets, but was gently aroused by the sweet smell and silver song. Her face was angelically carved, her skin fair, soft and beautiful. Her eyes were a deep and true forest green which sparkled with intelligence and constant curiosity for the world around her. She let out a sigh as she slipped from the bed, her sky blue nightgown flowing around her ankles as she strode to the balcony.

She gazed around at the city below, still quiet. Down below shop keepers set up their stands for the day awaiting the arrival of their daily customers. In the distance the hollow sound of horses' hooves on the cobble stone street echoed off of the many buildings in the square. _"It looks clear and crisp today…Perfect for a ride in the forest," _The young woman thought to herself as she twirled her long hair in her hands.

A soft knock on her door brought her out of her daydream. "Hey Ricochet can you open the door?" The muffled voice of a woman sounded through the varnished door.

"Don't worry, I'm coming Marcel," Ricochet called back as she left the balcony and crossed the shinning marble floor of her room, her feet making almost no noise as she went. Ricochet pulled open the door and the beautifully dressed handmaiden, carrying a tray of food, shuffled into the room awkwardly and set the silver tray on a nearby table. Marcel's hands looked warn and were lightly darker than the rest of her skin. Her hair was a luscious deep chocolate, her eyes a light Carmel. She wore the same blue and gold outfit as all the other maids, but it seemed to completely reflect her personality.

"I had the cooks fix your breakfast early since I know you like to go ridding on Sundays," Marcel explained as she brushed her apron and got to work making the luxurious bed. Ricochet smiled, Marcel always tried so hard to please her even though she had told her time and time again that it wasn't necessary.

"You know you didn't need to do all that for me. I may be royalty but I don't believe in my staff members overworking themselves. Besides I like to do things for myself once in a while. I appreciate the thought though," Ricochet responded striding over to Marcel and placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "I want you to take the day off today. There won't be much work around here for you to do anyways since I will be at the library all day."

"Shhh! Your parents will hear you, you know you are forbidden to leave the kingdom, and go to the library besides!" Marcel warned rushing from Ricochet's side to close the door quickly. She glanced out into the hall for half a second before letting the door click closed."And you also have a wedding to prepare for."

"Marcel you worry too much, and besides the wedding isn't for another month," Ricochet replied calmly in a carefree way as she munched on a slice of buttered bread. They didn't talk much after that as Ricochet finished her bowl of oatmeal. When she had finished Marcel helped her into her day clothes, a beautiful flowing ridding gown its silver embroidered flowers glittered like gems in the morning light. Marcel ran her nimble fingers through Ricochet's hair, skillfully braiding two strands and combining them behind her head.

"Be careful today, I heard there are bandits roaming about on the outskirts of the kingdom," Marcel said as she stepped back to admire her work.

"You know I will be," Ricochet replied taking up her saddle bag and placing a plan looking dagger into it along with some grapes that she had bundled up in a cloth. Ricochet slung the bag over her shoulder before giving Marcel a kind smile. She left Marcel alone, who when Ricochet had left let out a sigh if frustration before she hunted around the room for any laundry that needed washed.

Ricochet swiftly made her way to the stables, she was eager to head out and be away from the sheltered and confined walls of the kingdom. She let a soft smile etch across her face as she heard the greeting whinny of her steed. He was a huge shire horse whose coat was that of a chestnut blood red. His eyes, a dazzling blue, and his face a snowy white. His long mane flowed over his shoulders, its gleam seeming to reflect his perfect health. Four white stockings rose up his legs, and at their ends long lengths of fur flowed over his dark hooves.

"Good morning Mikey," She called as she traded in her handcrafted shoes for some sturdy leather ridding boots. They were old and worn and smelled of hay. They were once a brilliant earthy brown, but were now an old warn mahogany. Michael pawed at the stall door, he was ready to run, to race, to be free of his cage. Ricochet stuffed her handmade shoes into a bale of hay, carefully hiding them from view before gracefully collecting Michael's saddle and reigns. She entered the stall and skillfully tightened the straps and introduced the bit to the horse's maw like she had done hundreds of times before. She opened the stall door, which was heavily dented and scratched from Michael Angelo's giant hooves, and gracefully led him out into the tack room. The huge gentle giant loomed over her and playfully nipped at her braided hair, his large muzzle rubbing against the back of her head. She let out a soft squeak as she always did and quickly turned around to stroke the soft muzzle. Michael in response nudged his head into her arms. She embraced him and stroked his soft neck. She flinched as someone entered the stables. "Good morning my love," Rang a man's voice as he called to Ricochet lovingly.

"Ugh, I wish Jesspir would stop calling me that," She whispered to Michael before she pulled away and turned to face the man. He wore a tunic and cloak, both of which were a fire red and engraved with the symbol of a proud lion. His golden blond hair flowed down from his scalp in medium sized locks. Two old battle scars, most likely from some sword fight, raked against his left cheek. He was rather handsome and burly too, but that didn't impress Ricochet much."Hello, Jesspir." She wanted to spit out his name. She didn't hate him, but ever since she was five she had been told that she was to marry him one day. She had been fine with being friends, but her husband? He wasn't really her type; he was too controlling, and seldom sensitive to what she was feeling. Marcel was always lecturing her on how handsome he was and how lucky their kingdoms were to be at peace. Ricochet always found it rather annoying, besides she wanted to marry a man who was adventurous and could show her the world. All she had ever seen was the kingdom, and the small village at the base of a nearby peak which housed the small library.

"I have wanted to talk to you lately, but you have always been so hard find," He said seeming rather displeased and tired.

"Well you know how I am always busy with the kingdom and all… sooo…," She was looking for a way out, though she tried not to make this too obvious as she spoke. She started to head for the door, but Jesspir caught her on the shoulder.

"Will you at least try to spend more time with me once we are married and all?"

She just gave him a false grin as a reply before she mounted Michael and left Jesspir alone in the stables. Once there were out of sight Ricochet clicked the reigns and Michael sped up to a graceful canter. There was still snow on the ground in several places, but Michael Angelo easily plowed through them. The two of them slid skillfully off the main road which was buzzing like an angry bee hive. The loud sounds of carts and people reciting the daily news to each other filled the air. The sounds from the square muffled the deep thudding hoof beats of Michael Angelo. They reached a somewhat quiet alley way, one of the sides of which was the looming wall that surrounded the city of Eveneskah.

"Well, here we are Mikey," Ricochet announced as she patted her horse and leapt down to the earth with a soft thud. She approached the empty wall, near which a large flowering bush hid a nature made doorway to the outside. With a smile she pulled back the bush gingerly and motioned with a wave of her free hand for Michael to move forward and pass under the arch. The horse pushed himself through the bush and shook his mane free of debris after he had cleared himself of the tangling branches. Ricochet followed after him, being careful to check to see if anyone saw. Only her and Marcel knew of the secret way out of the city, and Ricochet planed to keep it that way. Marcel had often told her that she should tell the king, but Ricochet knew she wouldn't be able to go to the library any more if that happened.

Ricochet mounted the huge stallion once more and they flew off into the forest. Ricochet laughed as they raced along the path, her hair and gown flowing and dancing behind her. She gazed at the world around her. _"So beautiful and crisp today,"_ She thought with a shiver as a breath of cold air streamed past her face. The snow dripped from the trees, and small little sprouts shoved their way through the snow covered forest floor. Already the trees were becoming the homes of birds that were busy at work preparing their nests for their coming young.

Ricochet pulled gently on the reigns and the great horse came to a swift stop. "I just remembered. I brought you a snack Mikey boy," She spoke sliding from the saddle and opening up her dark green saddle bag. She pulled out a small bundle and quickly pulled the cloth away to reveal a handful of sparkling green grapes. Michael nodded his head up and down rapidly and pawed at the snow with his right hoof. Ricochet held out the light green fruit and Michael quickly devoured them all careful to search the ground and her hand for any that he might have missed.

They traveled on and crossed onto the main path once they were quite a few miles from the city. An occasional farmer or traveler passed them, but they said nothing to her and continued with their journey. The two reached the small library just before noon. Ricochet was glad to have eaten a large breakfast. Michael on the other hand was always hungry no matter how much he ate. Ricochet tied him up near an exposed patch of new grass so that he could graze. She skipped up the stairs, exited and eager to indulge herself in a book. Her parents had frowned upon the idea of her being educated. There was no reason for it they thought. Ricochet had grown up unable to read, but after meeting an older fellow, about 50, named Aretheu, she became fascinated by the idea of books and the knowledge they contained. He had taken her under his wing secretly and had taught her many things such as reading, and writing. It was their little secret.

"I see you're here bright an early like always," Aretheu called in greeting looking up from the papers he was writing. He pulled his crudely made spectacles from his face and squinted at her kindly in the candle light. The soft glow intensified the wrinkles on his face, and gave his grayed beard a golden glow. He wore a dark mahogany robe. To Ricochet he always looked like some strange wizard out of a fairy tale.

"Well I'm always eager to read a good book. Speaking of which do you have any new books?" She questioned, holding the side of her dress excitedly like a young girl would. Aretheu let out a soft chuckle.

"Yes, I managed to buy some books off a strange fellow earlier today. They are about magic and enchantments, so it might be best to read it here where your parents won't find out. You know how there is a law against magic in the City of Eveneskah," He said with a sly grin. He knew in his heart that everything that he had taught her was forbidden, and that if Ricochet's father, the king, were to find out it would be off with his head. Though despite this he felt he was doing the right thing. He felt it was his destiny to teach her everything he knew. She grinned back rebelliously. She loved all books, no matter what they were about, and the books he explained caught her immediate interest.

The old man handed her a couple of the new books. They were dusty and were bound in high quality leather. She sat down on a nearby couch and pondered at the mysterious writing engraved in gold on the cover. Along with the strange scrawling there was also a mysterious engraved symbol.

She ran her fingers over the symbol, and to her surprise it was hot. She pulled her hand back with a gasp. She looked to see if Aretheu had noticed. She saw him on the other side of the library his back to her as he ran his fingers over the books, checking to see if they were all still present. With a sigh she opened the dusty book, it's yellowed binding creaked in protest. Carefully written on the yellowed paper were lines and lines of the mysterious writing, all the words carefully scribed into the book. Ricochet could tell that whomever wrote it was right-handed based on the tilt of the font. "You said you got it from some stranger? What did he look like?" Ricochet questioned, breaking the thin silence in the air.

Aretheu continued to organize his books as he answered her question. "He was big and burly, rather stupid and brute looking too. I think he must have gotten the book from someone else."

"You think he might have stolen it from someone?" Ricochet asked a tinge of concern in her voice.

"It's possible, if you happen to find the owner you are welcome to give it back. Otherwise it will just have to stay here and collect dust. I have no use for it since I cannot read the writing."

"Do you know what kind of language it is in? Maybe we can look in some of your other books and decode it," Ricochet suggested hopefully.

"I highly doubt you will find any translations for that kind of writing. I don't know what language it is in, but I can tell it is one of the abandoned languages. It must be at least three hundred years old," He answered back glancing out one of the huge windows. "You might want to start heading home, it has started to snow." Ricochet nodded instinctively placing the book in her pack as she headed toward the door.


End file.
